


Office Hours

by bluebright_l



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Corporal Punishment, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:44:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melisandre is a student of Stannis Baratheon's, and um...yes. Read on~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and I made up a last name for Melisandre. It means 'fire' in Dutch. I hope. Whatever, it works.

Melisandre smoothed the plaid skirt down over her thighs, the itchy wool a stark contrast to her smooth legs, and waited. She’d procured this uniform months ago, when she’d first decided she was going to fuck Stannis Baratheon, her law professor. Handsome in a stern, straight-laced, no-nonsense sort of way, Professor Baratheon was by far the biggest challenge she’d ever set for herself. He was married, for one, although she’d heard his wife was a holy roller and plain, to boot. Still, Stannis, as she’d come to think of him, had a certain...passion about him that Mel was dying to explore.

When he’d explained the law of inheritance, and the obnoxious Tully kid had goaded him into using his own family situation to better explain, the fire in his eyes and cold iron in his voice had left her breathless, with a pair of completely soaked knickers. That was the day she’d started planning in earnest. She’d gotten her way surprisingly quickly, but Melisandre was becoming irritated; Stannis was hesitant and unsure, and far too careful, and that was _not_ what her fantasy had looked like.

She waited in his office, having set up this meeting to ostensibly discuss her term paper on the laws surrounding property inheritance. It was a deadly boring topic, but it suited her purposes and was easy enough to research, besides. She not only wanted Stannis Baratheon to fuck her, she also wanted to ace his course, which had the reputation of being the hardest on campus.

She heard footsteps in the hall, and straightened her back, swinging one leg as she crossed it over the other, showing both off to great effect. The footsteps paused, and now she could see his silhouette outside the frosted glass in the office door, which she’d left ajar. Mel flicked the desk lamp on, and Stannis strode into the office with a disapproving glare, only to stop short, his expression sharpening; it was still disapproving, to be sure, but there was lust there, too, she was certain.

“Miss Brand, this is not approp-”

Melisandre bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. She could taste the lipstick she’d slicked on, waxy and fire-engine red. Just as she’d hoped, the words had died in his mouth, and he stood stock-still, staring at her. “Not appropriate?” She laughed, and it sounded like another woman’s voice, low and sultry. “No, Professor, it certainly isn’t, is it? I’ve been very bad…”

In the time it took her to draw a breath, he’d crossed the span of the office to stand directly in front of her, and her chin was held fast in his hand. This close, she could see the rough stubble on his chin, flecked with silver, and smell the Irish Springs soap he washed with. She’d bought him cologne once, but she knew it was still sitting in the bottom drawer of his desk, unopened.

“You’ve been bad, have you?” His voice was rough and unsteady, and she could feel his fingers tighten on her chin. He wanted to let go, but she needed to give him a little push.

“Oh yes, Professor.” She reached down beside her and pressed a loose sheaf of papers to his chest. “I’m so far behind on my term paper, I’m afraid...well, _look_.”

Stannis tore his gaze away from her and took the papers from her hand, rifling through them with an expression of growing disbelief. She’d simply copied and pasted Wikipedia articles and mixed them in with a bit of truly terrible writing. “This is unacceptable,” he said. She could see his jaw clench in annoyance. “Not to mention, completely beneath your more than capable skill set.”

Melisandre shifted, uncrossing her legs, and Stannis stepped closer yet. She could feel a throbbing need starting to bloom there, and she wondered how much more he needed. “Yes,” she simply replied, daring to finger a button on his shirt. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary, Professor.”

She crossed her toes that he wouldn’t decide to be a complete stick-in-the-mud and turn her over to the provost for plagiarism, and let the hand that had toyed with his button come to rest lightly on his chest. He was hotter than hell, she could feel him through the thin cotton of his dress shirt...just _burning_ for her. Melisandre could feel fire licking in her veins as well; she had no idea why he, of all people, did this to her.

“Punishment?” She risked a glance up at his face through lowered lashes, and felt the fire kindled in her belly flare and roar its approval. He was staring at her with an expression of naked desire. She nodded mutely, arching an eyebrow at him, _daring_ him. Finally, it was enough. “Up off the desk, Miss Brand, and turn around.”

Doing as he said, Melisandre slid off the desk and turned her back to him. It took everything she had not to smile, especially when he pressed himself to her and she could feel him, hard against the small of her back. He wrapped a hand around her throat, his arm holding her close to him, and a tiny ‘Oh…” slipped past her lips. _This_ was what she’d had in mind from the beginning...but before she could properly appreciate the situation, Stannis shifted his hands, one to her hip and the other to her shoulder, and bent her over the desk.

Her breasts were crushed against the hard oak, and she lay her cheek on the cool surface for a moment, breathing hard. The hand on her shoulder had drifted downwards, and was now nearing the hem of her skirt. Melisandre held her breath as he flipped the skirt up, hoping for an audible reaction. She wasn’t disappointed, as Stannis drew a sharp breath, her name just barely audible as he released it, trailing one hot finger along the curve of her ass where it just couldn’t be contained by her plain white panties. She’d deliberately chosen a size smaller than she actually wore, knowing that he’d appreciate the way her cheeks peeked out, well...cheekily. And judging by the way his hands were gripping her, digging roughly into her flesh, she wasn’t wrong.

Stannis cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was still hoarse. “Jesus, Melisandre…” He’d let his fingers work down between her legs, tugging her panties up to expose a bit more of her ass, and clearly he’d found just how badly she wanted this, wanted him.

The first smack was firm, but lacked conviction. His palm made contact with the ripe, round curve of her ass, and then his fingers were gripping again, blunt nails digging into the sensitive skin just where her thighs ended. Melisandre looked over her shoulder, but Stannis’s face was shrouded in shadow. “I hardly think that’s-” The second smack came without warning, interrupting her and forcing her head forward. It was all she could do not to moan. “That’s better, but we wouldn’t want your hand to get sore.” She craned her neck, looking around the dimly-lit office. ‘Don’t you have a yardstick around here?”

His hand were on her again, gripping and squeezing and pinching, as he laughed, a harsh bark. “I’m a professor of law, not a grade school teacher, woman.”

She wanted to ask him how he’d gotten everything in this office arranged on such perfectly straight lines, then, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate teasing at the moment. At least, not of that sort. But before she could say anything, Stannis was pinning her to the desk with his hips, his erection hot and heavy against the cleft of her ass, even through his pants. She ground back against him and he let her, but his hands weren’t on her, and she wanted...oh, she wanted them… Peeking over her shoulder, she saw why, and this time she did moan. He was undoing his belt and drawing it out, his face a study in harsh contrasts of light and shadow.

Glancing up at the wanton noise she’d made, he raised an eyebrow at her as he folded the belt over itself once. “This will do nicely, I think.” He pulled away from her, and she felt the loss of his heat keenly. “Now…” The belt brushed against her ass gently as he repositioned himself and grasped her hip with his free hand, and she realized he was marking his spot. “Ten lashes should be sufficient. Hold still, Miss Brand, or I’ll add another ten.” His hand gripped her hard, and Melisandre realized she was squirming in anticipation.

The first stroke of the belt was harder than she’d anticipated, and pure pain. Stannis was clearly not going to go easy on her, probably because she’d forced him into this position. The second was harder still, the leather belt snapping against the bare skin he’d exposed earlier. Melisandre hissed as the pain radiated outward and heat spiked in her belly. He gave her three more in quick succession, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the cry they drove from her. She was on her tiptoes, her entire body thrumming in anticipation of the next blow, when she felt his hand smooth over her hot, inflamed skin.

“Halfway through.” He sounded as if he wouldn’t last that long, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted him to or not. She arched her back slightly, and felt him slide one long finger down between her spread legs and across her sodden underwear. “I was going to ask if you could tolerate it, but clearly you’re managing just fine.”

Melisandre blinked. Did Stannis Baratheon just make a joke...of sorts? Before she could ponder it further, he laid another stroke down across the crease of her ass. Taken by surprise, she moaned out loud and was rewarded with a harsh grunt from behind her.

Now that he’d established just how much she was enjoying this, Stannis took his time, swinging methodically, each blow overlapping the last so that not an inch of skin was left unpunished. By the time the last lash landed, they were both panting, and Melisandre could feel the evidence of her arousal running down her thighs. “Please, Stannis…”

She hadn’t even got the words out when she heard the soft rasp of a zipper. He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, just pulled them to one side and thrust into her roughly. The hand on her hip stayed there, and he dropped his belt beside her on the desk to wrap his other hand around the base of her neck. The edge of the desk was digging into the tops of her thighs, and Melisandre wiggled backward, hoping to relieve the ache.

She’d only been trying to get more comfortable, but judging by the tightening of the hand ‘round her neck and the jerk of his hips, it had been...stimulating. She wiggled again, pushing back to meet his next thrust. Before she knew it, he was slamming her back against the desk, his hands holding her firmly in place as he pumped away.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was ragged and harsh. “Like this?” He gave an especially hard thrust, and Melisandre gasped, feeling the beginnings of her climax coiling tight in her belly.

“Yes. God, yes…”

_This_ , this was how she’d imagined it going from the start. The desk, a solid old thing, thumped and rocked against the floor as he fucked her harder and harder. She was close already, but when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave it a sharp tug, Melisandre was done for. Somewhere in the haze of her climax, she noted that he’d come as well, his hips jerking into her forcefully a final time.

Afterward, Stannis collapsed in the leather armchair in the corner of his office, and to her great surprise, drew her down onto his lap without a word. Usually he left her with a brief kiss on the corner of her mouth, as if he couldn’t even bear to fully claim her lips with his. Clearly her plan had worked…

Melisandre smiled against his neck. “That wasn’t my actual paper, of course. _That’s_ been done for days. I submitted it online before I came over here.”

There was a brief pause, then Stannis snorted. “You wicked thing.” He shifted her slightly, and she felt one of his hands stroke her side at an awkward angle. “I got the email notification it’d been submitted on my way over, myself.”


End file.
